


Speak To Me

by MyHeartOfHearts



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Also I am weak, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Draco is still a dick but hes learning, Eating Disorders, Endgame Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fred Weasley Lives, Hurt/Comfort, I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good, M/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, also lots of back story, im not that cruel, implied eating disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-06-10 04:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15284127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyHeartOfHearts/pseuds/MyHeartOfHearts
Summary: This was just supposed to be Draco teaching the twins sign, but it turned into so much more when Harry jumped in. The more Draco teaches, the more he seems to learn. The battle of Hogwarts is finished, but the fight in Draco seems far from over. Torn between old alliances, new friends, and lots and lots of guilt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ya'll, feedback and criticism welcomed! I'll be posting new chapters weekly.

__

                When Draco was first sorted into Slytherin he felt relief. Relief for his ever-watching parents. Relief for making them proud _. Relief for not being in Gryffindor_. And maybe just a little bit of amazement. His father had gone on and on about the wonders that being in Slytherin had done for him, the good it had to have a brotherhood behind you. He'd never admit it to anyone, let alone Draco, but he liked Hogwarts. And Draco liked it too. Draco did amazing in school, he was the top of all his classes, he took AP everything and was in multiple clubs. When the kids in the great hall talked about how amazing Hermione Granger was, he had to stifle his jealousy, stifle the anger that _he_ was the best. He had nothing against Granger, she was a mudblood, so? She was half his league and just as good. Draco saw her as healthy competition.

                For Draco, Hogwarts was his relief, there was pressure, there was unease, there was fighting, even among Slytherins, _especially among Slytherins_. But it was his home and he loved it.

Even after the battle, Hogwarts was his heaven.

                And Hogwarts was just where he was hiding, more particularly, the Slytherin common room, studying for a Herbology class that was kicking his ass when two redheads approached him.

                "There he is, Grindelwald wannabe."  one of them spoke, he wasn’t sure who, never could tell them apart. Fred and George Wesley. After the battle of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall had taken over as Head at Hogwarts. It took her barely a week to start putting things back in order. The ministry taking just as big a hit. She was in the works to free the school from any political hold the ministry had had. Scouted the best teachers to replace the ones lost and had put together groups from every house to spend hours rebuilding the Castle. The great hall and the grounds taking most of the heat, Draco himself had volunteered to help rebuild. Pride flooding his chest when McGonagall gave him a small smile and a nod of a approval.  

The Wesley twins had decided to come back to finish their OWLs. Malfoy figured more to protect their younger siblings. Everyone was still on edge, but they would never tell you. He was pretty sure they were helping teach History of Magic or Transfiguration, but he wasn't sure which one.

                "What the bloody hell are you buffoons doing in my common room." he jumped up, his wand poking him in his sleeve.

                "Relax Malfoy, we come seeking help." as if to prove their point, one of them pulled a little white flag from their pants and waved it.

                Draco snatched at the flag and it clattered onto the common room floors. "Well on with it, I'm sick of your faces already."

                "George here got into a little accident with a death eater, his right ears already in Barny and his left one doesn’t seem to be too far behind."

                Finally, Draco could distinguish the two, and if he looked closely he could see a piece in 'George's' ear. A hearing device of a sort. "Right, and what's his deaf problem got to do with me."

"Yah know I'm not completely gone, I can still hear you, and I am still here" George shoved Fred, smirking at the other two.

                "Come on then George, let the grownups speak. All the Slytherins know how to sign and we were hoping you could teach us."

                Draco smirked, "Me? You want me to help you? As if. You know I'm not the only Slytherin in this castle. Find someone else." he kneeled down to pick up his books, already done with the conversation.

                "Yeah but we don't want another Slytherin, Draco, we, want you." Draco couldn’t tell who was speaking, he could only assume Fred. When he got up, he addressed them both.

                "Bugger off."

                The two boys looked at each other, shrugged and walked towards the common room exit.

Draco watched them _, to make sure they left_ , he told himself. But as the two redheads disappeared into the stairwell that led to the trapped door entrance and exit, he felt a twang of guilt.

 

                The Slytherin common rooms were underground, an enchanted bubble surrounded by water. Mermaids often came up to the walls, watching the children inside. They would get aggravated when the kids couldn’t understand, banging and crashing rocks against the walls. Back when the school first opened, a first year by the name of Alex Dark, a scrawny kid with multiple hearing issues, started teaching the mermaids sign. Soon it became a tradition for the Slytherins. They all learned sign, so they could talk with the underwaters. When Draco got to the school, when he was sorted, and shown around the school, he was pleased to find the merpeople. Pleased that he already knew sign.

                Cinthia Malfoy, Draco’s aunt that they never talked about, was born deaf. She lived with the Malfoys when Draco was a baby. No one talked about her, no one mentioned her. Till Draco was seven, he thought Cinthia was his mother. She did more for him than his own mother did. She taught him how to walk, talk, sign, and was even there when he got his wand. When Draco turned thirteen, Cinthia disappeared. And no one ever mentioned her again. Draco resented his family for pretending like she never existed. When he tried to ask his mother about her, she only said one word,

squib.

 

                The great hall was lit from floor to ceiling, kids, teens, and adults sitting and talking, someone threw mashed potatoes and they landed at Draco’s feet. He gave a dark glare towards the Ravenclaw table and a hush settled till he walked past them. As he approached the Gryffindor table, no one even bothered a glance. After the battle, the houses mingled more, even now he could see some stray Gryffindor’s and Hufflepuffs, even one or two Slytherins at the Ravenclaw table. He respected that. Something he missed out in his younger years. Maybe if he had mingled more he would have-

                Draco scrunched his face and pushed the thought away. Fred and George were still sitting among their peers, even though they had two spots at the head table with their names on them. All the Weasleys were there, Potter with them, and it made Draco a little uncomfortable. Harry had almost killed him a year prior, then saved his life. Draco wasn't as pretentious as he used to be but he still couldn’t wrap his head around the boy. _The chosen one._

                All the students at the table fell silent as Draco took a seat next to the Weasleys. He wasn't planning on staying long, but suddenly it felt like the wind had been kicked out of him. Everyone was looking at him, including Harry.

                "Malfoy, what do we owe the pleasure?" George spoke this time, he was the closest one to him.  The twins were smiling at him but everyone else looked for lone, even wary. He could tell Granger was clutching her wand under the table.

                "I've changed my mind," everyone was silent. "I can do that can't I?" he addressed the quite table, making direct eye contact with Harry.

                "We knew you'd come around!" George slapped his back and Draco flinched, uneasy with the friendly contact.

                "Whatever," he got up abruptly, almost tripping on his robes. "Tomorrow evening after supper, in the library, over section T."

                "Steamy." Fred chipped up, looking around his brother to glance at Draco. "It's a date!"

                Draco scrunched up his face, glanced at Harry, and walked away.

 

                Draco could tell his face was flushed as he hurried through the library. Quidditch had run longer than he wanted and now he was late for his, _meeting_ , with the Wesley boys. He hated being late, still dressed in his practice gear and sweat rolling down his neck Draco shoved past a group of third years and ran up the last flight of stairs to section T. The whole library was exceptionally quite today as most of the school had taken their usual trip to Hogsmeade, those who were left behind stayed silent, books floating in and out of shelves over studious children madly cramming for one test or another.

                “Thought you might have bailed.” Both boys were lounging one a makeshift couch, three sectional chairs pulled together from every end of the library into one corner.

                Draco tossed his bag on the floor and took the seat farthest from them. “Quidditch.” He looked up and noticed another guest in their presence. “Harry.” For some reason Draco felt intellectual sentences vanish from his mind, leaving only one-word responses.

“I wanted to learn.” Black hair covering his infamous scar, Harry Potter was sitting down in their small cubical, legs crossed and wand next to him. As if he didn’t have a care in the world.

                “Chosen one doesn’t have anything better to do?” As soon as the words left Draco’s mouth he felt a small flicker of guilt.

                Harry flinched but smiled none the less. “Not at the moment, no.”

                “Well let’s get on with it, shall we gents?” One of the Wesley’s cleared his throat.

                Draco had gotten time to prepare, barely. Sign language books were all over in the Slytherin commons, and before rushing off to practice, he had managed to grab two. He hadn’t prepared for a third party, but Fred and George graciously shared so Harry could have his own. For the next two hours, Draco went over the basics of Sign, many times cursing the stupidity of fumble fingers. Fred picked it up easier than his counterpart, and the majority of the lesson was taken over by competition.

                “That’s not how you make an M, Fred. It’s like this, right Draco?”

                Draco held his tongue for what felt like the millionth time before looking up from his own homework. “They’re both right, for Gilderoy's sake.” He quickly glanced at Harry’s mimicking hand. “Well, uh, you need to move your thumb. You’re making an N.”

                Harry took a second to look up, not realizing he was being talked to. He quickly moved his thumb one over but in the wrong direction.

                Draco held up his hand to demonstrate, feeling the hair on the back of his nape stand up when Harry moved closer to him to get a better look. Draco cleared his throat, feeling far too uncomfortable he slammed his books closed and started packing up. “As much of a pleasure as this has been, I have more studying to do. Someplace actually silent.” He gave the twins a look and shoved his books in his bag. “I’ve given you more than enough material to go over for a while.”

                “Lovely, when’s our next study date?” Fred and George both got up.

                “I’ll be busy for the next three or so days, so I’ll just- “

                “Hold on, we need to learn faster than that!” George looked mildly annoyed. “I won’t be this inquisitive for long you know!” he let out a laugh at the end, but everyone could tell he was worried.

                “Fine,” Draco slung his bag over his shoulder, taking a step back as Harry stood up, _in his bubble_. “Come find me at lunch, I’ll be in the dark corner of the Slytherin table, _alone_.”

                “And if we need help before then?” This time Harry spoke up. Draco didn’t blame him, he was shit at sign, his fingers talentless tools without his wand. He had no clue why Harry wanted to learn sign if not for George’s sake.

                “Then ask a Slytherin. _Preferably not me_.” He counted that as his farewell, turning before hearing their response and dashing back to the safety of his commons.             

                “See you at lunch!” Harry yelled as he dashed down the stairs. The words tailed him around for the rest of the day.

                When Draco Malfoy was five years old, he learned that blood is thicker than water. Running about the mansion, studying from great magic history books, occasionally bumping into his parents, this proverb was heavily enforced on him. Had his mother kept track of these things, he would bet his life that his first spoken word was blood.

                “It’s just us Draco,” His father would say, as if he was reading a script from a book. “Us against them, blood is thicker than water, never forget that. We protect our own, we protect you, and someday you will protect us.”

                When he would repeat the saying around Cinthia she would shake her head, aggravated, her hands flying a mile a minute. “ _Family isn’t everything. This isn’t end all.”_  

                Once she got so upset at the saying, she grabbed a needle, pricking her hand and Draco’s. “ _This does not end here_.” She emphasized each word as hard as she could. “ _This_ ,” she pointed to the drops on their hands, “ _is not all you will have.”_

                Draco never understood the saying _, what she was saying_ , until she was gone. Blood is thicker than water. Unless you’re a disappointment. Unless you chose wrong. Unless you are wrong.

                As his parents showed him off when it suited them, chastising him for one step out of line, he felt the seed of bitterness start growing. As he reached new heights, new ages, and new understandings, Draco tried with all his might to squash the bitterness. Everything was always, _just barely wrong_. As much as he hated to admit it, he did love his parents. They protected him, always made sure he had the best. He was just barely wrong. Something painfully shown to him in Slytherin. Wrong in Slytherin, wrong in sides, wrong in family.

                _“Blood is thicker than water, never forget that. We protect our own, we protect you, and now you have to protect us.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been pretty anxious to get this out there so I can get more of an idea of where it's headed. I have no beta, my grammar is shit, and I had to look up multiple things to keep this true to JK Rowling, so if there's any mistakes or something's off in the Potter world please let me know so I can fix it! xoxo

It was a long night of studying for Draco, after his torturing lessons with the Gryffindor gang, he had three more lessons of his own to finish. The Slytherin commons were unusually empty, most of them being expelled after the debacle of the battle. One other Slytherin was in the commons with Draco that evening when a merperson swam up to the glass, gently tapping on the barrier between them. He looked up and the creature started signing. _“I have a message for you.”_ Draco hurried to free his hands, but the creature continued signing. _“Protect Us.”_   Draco started signing back, his heartbeat quickening, but the creature was already swimming away. He banged on the glass to get its attention, but the creature only looked back, signing _“Protect us.”_ one more time before it was lost in the murk of the water. He felt the air start leaving him, he thought all of this was over. Hurriedly with shaking hands, he picked up his things and ran to his room. There were four beds to a room and this wasn’t the first time Draco was immensely happy to know he was the only one in his room. None the less, he drew his bed curtains and succumbed to the panic attack. He could feel the beads of sweat on his head, his hands shaking as he tried to wipe it off. His stomach was in knots and he was glad he had skipped dinner. He tried to do the deep breathing techniques that Madam Pomfrey had taught him in the ward when he would go after it had first started. His mind kept jumping back to his family, the merperson, and oddly enough Harry.

 

                Draco jolted awake, sweat still collecting on his forehead. He knew it was three AM. The same time he had been waking up every night for months now. Usually, he laid in bed till the sun started coming up, sometimes he finished on his homework, and other times, he snuck into the kitchen to eat. His stomach let out an enormous growl, choosing for him which path he would be taking tonight. After cloaking up and grabbing his wand, Draco snuck out of the commons and took the back halls till he was standing in the dimly lit kitchen. Though the Castle was in disarray, most of the rules were still in place. He wasn’t sure what the teachers would do if they caught him, but he had enough homework on his plate at the moment, thanks. He was digging into some toasty bread with jam when he heard someone clear their throat behind him.

                “Mr. Malfoy, to what do I owe the pleasure.” Minerva McGonagall stood behind him, a cuppa in one hand, wand illuminating in the other.

                “Headmaster.” Draco immediately dropped his toast, wiping his mouth quickly and getting up.

                She sighed and lowered her wand, wrist flicking to the fireplace across from her. The light from the fire cast a homey warmth in the kitchen. “Not sure I’ll ever get used to that.” When Draco was silent she pursed her lips and sat down on the closest stool to her. “How are you Draco?”

                “Pardon?”

                “It’s been a crazy year Mr. Malfoy,” she took a sip from her mug “I don’t think any one of us sleep through the night.”

                Draco felt anger explode in his chest. “And I why would it matter how I am?” the _why now_ , was left hanging in the air.

                “Watch your tongue boy, I am not the enemy. You’ve played a very specific role all your life, and now you need to find something else. I can imagine you feel empty, lost. None of us got to chose who we were born to, _born into_. We cannot choose blood, but we _can_ choose family.”

                Draco tried to hold his composure, the eyes of McGonagall gauging his reaction to the words. He felt panicked, her words echoing those of his fathers, those of his aunt. _Did she know?_ He grabbed his wand off the counter, nodded his head in her direction “Headmaster.” And walked away as fast as he could without running. He could feel her eyes on him all the way out.

                 

                Draco slammed another ginger root beer. A concoction made by the Weasley boys themselves in their first year. It was nasty but kept the energy up, the only side effect being blurred vision and shaky hands. Something lack of sleep did anyway. He was chugging his third one that day when the Gryffindor gang plopped down on all sides of him.

                “What’s on the table today chief?” Fred and George half signed half chattered from across the table. 

                Harry sat down next to him, leaving room for one book bag. Draco was too jittered to care.

                “Lower your voices imbeciles.”  He took another sip and pushed the empty glass away. “Show me.”

                “Ginger beer huh? Better be careful with that stuff.” The Weasley’s looked at each other with Cheshire grins and started clumsily signing.

                When Draco was done assessing them, he turned his head towards Harry just enough to see him out of the corner of his eye. “Funny, you’d think someone so agile with their wand would be better with their fingers.”

                “That’s what she said!” Fred whooped and gave George a high five.

                Draco rolled his eyes, too tired for a comeback. He pushed Harry’s bag under the table and scooted closer to the boy, not even the hair on the back of his neck protested. For the rest of lunch, he sat next to Harry, showing him the movements side by side.

                The lights in the great hall flickered twice, indicating that lunch period was over and the classes were starting back up.

                Draco looked up, “Shit!” He swung his legs off the bench, going so fast he bumped into Harry “Sorry.”

                “In a hurry, Malfoy?” Harry’s tone was light, he put a hand out to stable Draco, making the blond stumble backward into a table of Hufflepuff girls.

                “Sorry, sorry.” He addressed the one table and then the other. “Class in the greenhouse five minutes ago.”

                “Have fun with the greenies!” One of the Weasleys shouted after him. Draco barely heard Harry say bye. But he did hear it.

               

                As if on cue, one of the merpeople started tapping on the glass and following Draco when he returned to the commons.

                He wanted to sit in his usual corner, the whooshing of the water against the glass was calming, and right now he needed the dark depths of the underworld to sooth his headache. He ignored the creature, decidedly looking away as the tapping got louder. Throwing his bag down and slouching down in one of the armchairs, Draco heaved a sigh and finally acknowledged the creature.

                _“Shrieking Shack. Tomorrow.”_ The creature signed a few curse words after that and then flipped its tail and was off. 

 

                For his thirteenth birthday, Draco’s parents bought him the newest broom on the market. He smiled and did the proper ‘thank you’, but he wasn’t even close to feeling it. He knew they were trying to make up for Cinthia. He wondered what crazy game she would have made up to play with him. Stomp stomp clap used to be his favorite, a renditioned version of hide and seek. They used to play in the third-floor halls until Lucius found them. Draco’s backside hurt for two weeks after that, and since then their games were more lucrative, more hidden. Every year for his birthday she invented a new game for them to play. He would poise through dinner, nodding and humming along to everything his parents would say and then hurry off to Cinthia’s quarters. Even his first-year spending holiday at Hogwarts she sent him a scavenger hunt. His parents had sent him nothing. Cinthia had been there for every part of his life. When his parents crushed him down, she would build him up. She was the smartest person he knew, pushing him to lengths he didn’t know he could accomplish. _“You are so much more than this.”_ She would sign, gesturing around the manor.

                In Draco’s first years of knowing Harry Potter, his utter disdain for the boy wonder was immediately made known. He hated how quickly the chosen one was accepted into every nook and cranny of the grounds, how quickly everyone latched onto him and cared. Draco desperately wanted approval and validation, and even though his were the highest grades, he never got a word of approval from Dumbledore, his father only making remarks on doing better. Harry Potter wasn’t the only one with troubles, he wasn’t the only one who needed someone to care. Draco quickly made the connection of trouble, to attention. At first, his trouble was through being a bigot, he may not have gotten the right attention but it was attention none the less. When Voldemort instructed Draco to kill the headmaster of Hogwarts, Draco jumped on the wagon. Finally, _he was the chosen one_ , he had the information and he was the important one. He went to Professor Dumbledore as soon as he could, expecting a word of praise, recognition, validation. All he got was a go ahead, his information passed onto someone else and Harry Potter was once again cast into the limelight. Draco resented Harry so much. After Cinthia was taken away from him, Draco shut down. If he didn’t have her, he didn’t need anyone else. Though his psyche subconsciously sought the attention, he told himself it wasn’t needed anymore. He refused to feel, refused to cry, he only needed one thing to fuel him, determination. He would be the best, he wouldn’t need anyone else, he would show all of them.

 

                The midafternoon air was sharp, underneath the fog was a layer of cold promising the bitter winter ahead. Draco had ditched his bags and gear in his room, pulling his robes tightly around him as he left the main entrance, not wanting anyone to see him, more importantly, the Gryffindor’s whose lesson he was skipping on. He had planned to leave that evening, but McGonagall had scheduled the builders to clean up the front entrances while everyone was in bed. The fog was a good enough cover as he hastily walked towards the whomping willow. He could only hope the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack was still intact.

                Draco had no trouble disarming the Willow, its branches slow and covered in ice, barely putting up a fight. He made record time crawling through the freezing tunnel, popping up in the shack covered in cobwebs and dirt. Everything was silent.

                “Lumos.” His voice was shaky, barely coming out as a whisper. The shack appeared to be empty, everything inside broken down, flakes of snow covered parts of the floor where the ceiling was caved.

                _“When had it started snowing?”_ Draco had barely time to think this before the fireplace let out a cough. He spun around, wand before him, shaking.

                The coals in the fireplace lit up as if someone had breathed some life into them, and the face of Lucius Malfoy materialized before him.

                “Draco, is that you?”

                “Father.” He immediately lowered his wand and crouched in front of the fire.

                “Draco you need to help us.”

                “Where’s mother? Where are you?”

                “Hush, we haven’t much time. They’re hunting us down, all of us. It won't be long till they find us. They will put us on trial. Draco you must speak on our behalf, say that we were tortured, we had to, _anything_. Protect us.”

                Draco didn’t say anything, the face already starting to disappear. He sat back on his heels, trying to process what had just happened. Before the coals let out, another face appeared.

                “Cinthia!” Draco got as close as he could, wanting to hug the coals, be as close as he could. She smiled at him and then the went out.

                Draco pushed both his hands in the coals, cursing and falling backward as his hands screamed in pain. He turned over and stretched them into the pile of snow closest to him. He laid like that for some time, the snow filtering through above him and melting on top of his still acing flesh. He could feel his chest start to tighten, his breaths coming out shallow and uneven. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing, on the feeling of the snow landing on his hands and arms. At that moment he wished he had just died in the battle of Hogwarts.

 

                Fluttering his eyelashes against the cold, Draco slowly opened his eyes. He was still laying on the cold shack floor, the stars signaling what time it was in the dark skies of Scotland. His hands felt numb but he could still sense the throbbing, an expansion in his skin every time his heart beat. He tried to read the stars, hear what they were telling him like Professor Trelawney always babbled about. But the stars stayed silent.

                “Pathetic.” Draco tried to force the word out with vigor, disgust, but once again it barely came out as a whisper. He got up, using his legs as much as he could. He hoped he could get back in time to help with the building, knowing full well McGonagall would notice his absence. The trapdoor in the floor almost seemed to be mocking him, the placements of the planks looking like a surprised face. There was no way he would be crawling back through the tunnels tonight. He would apparate, but that level of magic would be easily detected. As if he needed another reason for McGonagall to watch him.

                “Bout time you woke up.”

                Draco whirled around, wand up. “Jesus Christ Potter, anyone ever tell you not to hide in dark corners!” He was more pissed than he realized.

                Harry Potter was leaning up against a wall, arms crossed like he hadn’t been standing there for hours. “Relax Draco, and no, not since the battle was over.” He was smirking, and Draco felt uncomfortable with his expression on Harry’s face.

                “What are you doing here? You spying on me again?” Draco knew Harry had every right to do just that, but he was still pissed.

                Harry pulled out a piece of paper from his back pocket, “Marauders map. Just wanted to know what was so important that you’d miss lessons today,”

                “ _Literally everything_ ,”

                “And,” he continued as if Draco hadn’t interrupted him, “When you were here for so long, I wanted to make sure you were okay. Good thing I came huh?” Harry watched as Draco hot potatoed his wand, his hands still aching.

                Draco felt his anger bubble out.  He put his wand in his pocket because his hands hurt. “So, you just stood there and watched me? Kind of a weird thing to do don’t you think?”

                “Not your enemy Draco.” As if to prove his point, Harry lowered his arms. He stepped forward and motioned for Draco to put his hands out, reluctantly the blond did just that. “Episkey” He cast the word forward, waving his wand with a turn of his fingers. He lit his wand and looked at Draco’s hands closely. “You must have done some damage,”

                The hands were better, no more stinging or pulsating, there was white scaring on the palms, red and irritated.

                “You did this with magic.”

                Draco jerked his palms back, significantly happier that his hands hurt less. “Don’t worry about it, Potter.” The snarky dialogue came too easy. After a little while, he mumbled, “thanks.”  

                “Come on, it’s well past nightfall, if it gets any later we may as well stay here and sneak back in at daybreak.” Harry held out his arm once more, gesturing for Draco to take it.

                “And what makes you think I’d go with you?”

                “Well you can’t bloody crawl, I can imagine your hands are still sore. Look if we apparate together, McGonagall will only see me. She won’t question what I do.”

                “So, the chosen one has free reign? How comforting.”

                “Look I’m in no mood to fight right now and my ass is freezing. Can we just go back already?”

                “And what will you tell the new headmaster?”

                Harry rolled his eyes, “She won’t even ask. Make your mind before I leave you.”

                Draco reached out and touched the other boy's forearm and before he even had a chance to breathe, he felt his body twist and pull, shrink and grow. Harry had apparated them into the great hall, the candles were dimly lit, the portraits on the wall snoring.

                Draco saw no reason to thank Harry again, instead heading for his commons room entrance. Casting a low light so he wouldn’t trip over any uneven bricks.

                “Probably shouldn’t miss any more lessons,” Harry whisper yelled after him “or next time it’ll be Fred an George coming to rescue you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING* Use of profanity in this chapter. If you don't like the word fag being used in its British context, don't go any farther.

The Weasley twins were already sitting at the Slytherin table, heads bowed and conversing with Harry when Draco sat down.

                “I heard they’re bringing in mind healers.”

                “God knows we need them. That’s a thing in the muggle world right Harry?”

                “Yeah, but they’re called therapists.”       

                All three boys looked up when Draco sat down, close enough to be a part of their group but far enough that he had his space.

                “Bout time you showed up.”

                “Yeah, we might have to get a new teacher if you keep ditching us.” The twins pestered him.

                “Fine then get a new fucking teacher.” Just as soon as he had sat down he was jumping back up, “You know why I’m even helping you guys in the first place? _House integration_. Which is bullshit by the way. Get a new fucking teacher.”

                Both sets of Weasleys looked shocked, Harry mirroring their faces.

                He didn’t stick around after that, walking swiftly towards the opening of the castle. He needed fresh air.

                Though the war had ended, Draco felt like it had hardly just begun. He felt just as stressed and unbalanced as he had in the presence of Voldemort. Something was always pulling him, from side to side. He still hadn’t talked to Harry about, _well everything_. The day at the manor when the snatchers had brought him constantly ran through his head every time he saw the raven-haired boy. Draco hunched down under a tree in the courtyard, taking a deep breathe and leaning against the trunk behind him. Nothing seemed simple, not now, not before, and not after. He knew the ministry was hunting down the rest of the Death Eaters. He also knew that he barely escaped Azkaban himself, by the skin of his teeth, or rather by Harry’s. They wanted to trial him, sit him down in front of the ministry, in front of hundreds of eyes, talk about his involvement in the Dark Lords rising. But Harry had said no.

                He felt someone sit down next to him but was too tired to open his eyes.

                “How are your hands doing?” It was Harry, _of_ course _it was Harry._

                The stupid git literally never learned when to leave well enough alone. Draco didn’t bother to answer. When he felt Harry’s hand gently reach out and touch his, he pulled back, when it happened again he let the stupid idiot examine him.

                “Looks better. Hope you’re putting oils on them, otherwise, it’ll scar.” Draco still said nothing, letting Harry’s hand gently trace his palm for a second before he snatched it back.

                “I know there are some things we need to talk about. I was going to wait, let you figure out when you wanted to have this conversation- “

                _Ugh, how about never_

                “but I can see it’ll probably have to me who initiates it.” When Draco still said nothing, did nothing, Harry kept talking. “McGonagall is talking about doing groups. Like a group mind healing. It’ll be house integrated. Everyone Is on edge, suffering in one way or another. Pomfrey is running around crazy trying to keep up with the demand for sleeping aids.” Draco felt rather than saw, Harry take a deep breath. It was silent for a while, the wind brushing through his hair, distant sounds of owls. He could feel the snow underneath him, where his hands rested on the ground, the ice prickled against him and slowly melted. “I don’t think any of us really know what we’re doing anymore.” Draco had to force himself not to jump, almost forgetting that Harry was even there. “The worst is over but there are things that still need to be finished up, things that need to be addressed. I know why you went out to the Shrieking Shack.”

                Draco finally opened his eyes to scrutinize the boy sitting next to him.

                “I’m not here to judge you or to take a piss. I can’t imagine how you must feel.” He whispered the last part, looking up from the twig he was fiddling with to finally glance into Draco’s eyes.

                The last string of anything that was holding Draco together snapped in the look of those eyes. He jumped up, pulling his wand from his jumper and pointing it to Harry “Stupify!”

 Harry dodged his spell, landing on his ass but pulling out his own wand while screaming. “What the fuck Malfoy!”

Draco pointed his wand again, “Expelliarmus!” And the other boy’s wand flew into the air, landing ten feet away from them. “Don’t ever pretend that you know me, Potter.” He spat at him. A crowd had started to form, people were staring at the two. Draco cast one more look at the other git and stormed off.

                He didn’t get far till he quite literally ran into Professor McGonagall.

                “Mr. Malfoy, chaos does not exclude misconduct.” She peered down at him, “I’d like you to follow me to the office.”

                They walked to Dumbledore’s office, her office, silence except for the _tap, tap, tap_ , of McGonagall’s shoes against the bricks. She walked up to the Gargoyle statue, hitting it once with her wand and uttering “Plum Cake.” The Gargoyle appeared to nod and then spun around, revealing the entrance. Once inside the now dismal office, she motioned for Draco to take a seat across from his, _her_ , desk.

                “I know you aren’t aware of this Mr. Malfoy, but there were some other details of your freedom from Azkaban.”

                The blond shuddered, thinking of what could have been.

                “You are, how the muggles would say, on parole. And attacking students in broad daylight in the middle of Hogwarts ground is highly inexcusable.”

                “I understand” He bowed his head. He didn’t want to look around the office more than he needed to. The still very painful memories of Dumbledore seemed to have seeped into every inch of the room. Draco remembered being very young, sitting in this chair and talking to the greying Headmaster. He remembered that not that long ago he was sitting here, tears streaming down his face as he told the Headmaster what Voldemort had instructed him to do. The grey man nodding, telling him he needed to go through with it.

                “I don’t think you do. You are on thin ice, boy. If you keep this up, neither I nor Mr. Potter will be able to help with what may happen.”

                He cleared his throat, still looking down at his hands, palms sweaty against his pants. “And what will happen?”

                “You think Azkaban is the only thing that can happen to you?” Her tone was almost soothing, it was nice to have a familiarity, even if it was McGonagall’s lecturing. “It is far too soon for you to be causing this much trouble. I’ll let you off with a warning, a weeks worth of detention, and it would do you good to apologize to Mr. Potter. You better start shaping up.”

                When she didn’t continue, Draco looked up, nodded, and made his escape.

                “Mr. Malfoy,” She addressed him right before he walked out, “Do you know why I’m doing this?”

                Draco looked up from the ground, the sun shining through the windows in the office and lighting up McGonagall’s face. “Because I broke rules, headmistress.”

                “It’s because there are some of us who care, and don’t want to see you in Azkaban.”

 

                Draco grudgingly scrubbed at the windows in the castle, he felt as dirty as they looked. McGonagall’s words had made him feel warm, wanted, but the voice of his father quickly drowned that feeling out _. Nobody’s going to want you if you’re weak._ He scrubbed harder, wiping off the grubby fingerprints of first years.

                “See anything good out there?”

                Draco scowled and glanced at Harry Potter. The boy had stationed himself a couple windows down, cloth over one shoulder, bucket at his feet.

                “You know you’d think there would be a magic way to keep this place clean.”

                Draco went back to scrubbing his window, waiting a minute before mumbling, “McGonagall probably want’s a way for us to build character.” He startled when he heard Harry laugh.

                “That sounds like something she would say.”

                They lapsed back into silence, the windows squeaking, the gentle sound of water when one of the boys dipped their cloth in.

                Draco glanced at Harry from the corners of his eyes, “How did you get on window duty anyway?”

                “Same as you.”

                Draco snorted. “I have a hard time believing that. The chosen one in trouble?”

                They were silent for a while longer before Harry broke it. “Always hated being called that. Chosen for what? Death and despair? Think I wouldn’t have traded this for a picket fence with my family?” He coughed, trying to cover up the way his voice cracked at the end.

                Draco felt his stomach clench _. They all lost something,_ he wasn’t going to feel guilty just because Harry voiced his loss. _He would have traded everything for that picket fence life too._

                They worked in silence after that, moving in an almost rhythmic pattern. Draco would finish a window, then Harry would finish a window, bouncing ahead of Draco, then Draco ahead of him. They worked like that till the clock struck twelve. Abandoning their gear in one of Filches closets and setting off to their perspective common rooms. Neither of them wished the other goodnight.

                The next night after classes were finished, homework complete, and Draco had finished helping rebuild the first-floor halls, he scuttled off to the second floor, picking up his bucket and hauling it along the way. He wondered what punishment McGonagall would dish out next, the floors? _Oh god._

                Harry had beat him this time, already on the second set of windows when Draco passed him, setting up shop at the third set. The time went by quietly and quickly, they had set up the same routine from the day before. Bypassing each other when the other would finish. Draco almost felt saddened when the clock struck and neither of them had said anything. Just like before they stored away their supplies and parted ways. Before Draco had completely disappeared round the bend, he heard the Gryffindor lowly, almost whisper, “Goodnight Draco.” He turned quickly and caught the other boy’s eyes, nodding at him before slipping away. 

                The third night Draco had to drag himself up the stairs, grateful when they moved, giving him five minutes to sit there with his eyes closed. He hadn’t slept a wink the night prior, grateful that tomorrow was the weekend. His homework had gone untouched. Just like the night before, Harry was ahead of him, already working hard, scrubbing dirt, sweat forming on his brow. Just like the night before the two boys worked in silence. But as the time wore on, Draco found himself dragging down, Harry getting farther and farther down the hall as he got stuck on one window. The noises were soothing, a gentle rain was falling on the outside and when he watched the droplets land on the window, his eyes would flutter closed.

                “Draco wake up.” A hand was shaking his shoulders. He bolted up, swatting the hand and reaching for his wand.

                “Relax, relax! It’s me.” Harry had hopped a few steps back, out of the way of his wand.

                Draco wasn’t sure if he was just tired, or if it was the safety of the castle, the safety of Voldemort’s death that made him speak. “Sometimes they would come into my room to wake me up. They would check my alertness. Sometimes they would practice the cruciatus curse.” The _on me_ was left silent. “They made my dad do it once. Said was to keep us in line.”

                Harry had stepped back towards Draco once his wand was lowered, a look of almost confusion on his face, that mixed with shock and horror.

                “Don’t pity me Potter.” He regained some of his awareness, guiltily putting his wand away. “I didn’t tell you so you could look at me like that.”

                “Then why did you tell me?”

                The blond hesitated, not really certain himself. “House integration.”

                Both of them were silent for a while, before Harry started laughing, doubling over and putting his hands on his knees.

                Draco couldn’t help but join him, his answer felt ludicrous, even to himself. He would chalk it up to sleep deprivation if anyone ever confronted him. Both of them sobered up, Harry kneeling next to Draco, pushing his feet out so he was up against the wall. After a moments hesitation, Draco did the same.

                “Hope it doesn’t take another war for us to have a conversation.”

                “You’re sick, Potter.” But Malfoy chuckled a bit, glad he had someone to make light of, _all this._ He pulled out his pack of cigs, not even caring that the golden boy was sitting right next to him. He lit it up, watching with amusement Harry’s shocked expression. “Fag?” He had only just started smoking, some of the other Slytherins always talked about how good it was on the nerves. And there was one thing he needed, it was to calm down.

                Harry chuckled, pulling out his own pack from his pockets. “I will borrow a lighter though.”

                “First detention now cigs? What’s next Potter? Wild Gryffindor orgies?” But he passed the lighter to his neighbor, watching in amusement as the pink covered his face.

                Both of them took long drags, using the water bucket as an ashtray. The hall was eerily silent, half the lights were off, casting long shadows on the furniture and on the two boys.

                “Do you ever hate the first years?”

                Draco looked over, raising an eyebrow. “Strong word.”

                “I mean it. I hate them for their lack of knowledge, it’s going to be easy for them. They don’t know half the shit we went through, -“ He took another drag. “Half the people we lost. It’s going to be easy for them and I hate to say it but I hate them for it.”

                Draco faced forward, crossing his legs so they were closer to him.  “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.” He got up, bones popping as he stretched and threw the last bit of his cig in the water bucket.

                “You going to ignore me again tomorrow?” Harry followed his lead, picking up the bucket along with the rags.

                “Probably.” He gave a quick smile to the other boy before walking around a corner.

 

                The Weasley twins didn’t look too pleased with having their lessons postponed. “Look we all know our ABC’s now.” Both boys hastily went through the letters, even using the few words Draco had taught them.

                “Congratulations, you’re graduating from pre-K”

The two twins snickered.

                They had met in the courtyard; the snow had melted but the clouds had gathered whispering of more snow to come. The four boys had met under a sad tree, its branches naked, trunk barely frozen.

                As the sun crossed the sky, Draco taught more words to the boys, trying to stay with the practical words, the words that would be used more often. Even Harry made quick work, his fingers finally bending and turning in the right ways, his signing significantly less sloppy than last time.

                “Come on then George, you’re going to have to be better than that.” Fred shoved his brother, redoing the signs he had just done.

                “Hey Malfoy, what’s the sign for Wanker?” George shoved his brother back, nearly knocking him off their step in the garden patch.

                Draco rolled his eyes but showed them, using one fist to make an obscene gesture.

                “Wow should have seen that coming.”

                All the boys practiced the gesture, getting some funny looks and a wolf whistle from a group of Ravenclaw girls.

                “Fancy that,” George nodded at the girls

                “Now this is the part of the class I like.” Fred finished for him.

                Draco signed a sentence, picking up his bags and hopping from the dirt.

                “What’s that mean?” The twins asked in unison.

                “Time for dinner.” The blond called over his shoulder, making his way into the great hall.

                Draco didn’t see the boys following him, but as soon as he had sat down at the Slytherin table, they sat down with him. “Do you redheads always have to sit here?” He shoved past one of the twins and picked up a dinner roll.

                “That’s racist.” They chirped.

                “What you don’t mind if Harry sits here?” Fred copied his move and reached over Draco to grab the beans.

                He briefly looked across the table to Harry, who already had his mouth full of ham. He decided to ignore their comment. “You guys need to start signing in everyday conversations. The more you practice the easier it’ll come. You know enough words to tumble through an everyday chat.”

                “And if we come across a word we don’t know?” George talked from his other side, bits of food flying out of his mouth.

                Draco cringed in disgust, he couldn’t turn left or right without running into a Weasley boy so he leaned back from the table. “The books I gave you should more than be able to help you twits.”

                “When’s the next lesson?” The one on his right asked.

                “If you don’t come blundering after me of every second of every day, we can meet at lunch on Monday.” Draco dropped the roll back onto his plate, no longer feeling an ounce of hunger. He packed his things and started walking away. He glanced at the three of them, meeting Harry’s eyes for a moment, and then continued forward.

 

                Draco and Harry made quick work of the windows that night, both of them seeking the first drag of a cig, of sitting down and being able to just be.

                “Why are you helping us?” Harry was on his second fag, his arm resting on his shaking knee.

                Draco tried to keep up with the other boy, dragging a deep breath of his third smoke. He wished he’d eaten dinner, wished he’d gotten more than four hours sleep last night. “Suppose someone has to help you lot.”

                “Nah that’s not it.” Harry flicked his ashes into the bucket, glancing at the blond on the other side of the makeshift ash bowl.

                “Sod off Potter. You want some big tale of woe? How I feel guilty about the actions of my family and myself? That I’m trying to make some good of my life?” He cut himself short, realizing that’s basically what he was doing.

                He knew in some way he was trying to retain some of Cinthia, the memories of her teaching sign, the kind way she would shake her head when his own clumsy fingers did something wrong. The twins fumbling fingers, Harry’s needed repetition, reminded him of his own fat fingers as a child. The gentleness in which Cinthia would teach him was so unlike the harsh words of his mother and father. Even when he did something wrong, no slap was given, no cane to his backside. Maybe if she had stayed things would have been diff-

                “We’re all trying to make up for things we’ve done.” Harry’s voice was calm, his shaking knee gave him away though.

                Draco took another hit, ignoring his lightheadedness. “Some of us are worse than others.”

                “We’ve all done things that we’re ashamed o-“

                “Shut the fuck up Potter!” Draco scrambled to his feet, tossing his half-lit fag in the bucket. “You want to keep talking about wrong, and how we’ve all done things. Have you sworn your loyalty to the dark lord?” Draco swayed a bit, pulling up his sleeve to show his mark, grabbing onto the wall with his other hand he continuing his tirade. “Have you endangered everyone you love? Have you tortured people not because someone made you, but because you knew if you didn’t you would die? Have you stood by, and watched, a task assigned to you, and you couldn’t even do it, carried out by someone else? I would have done it you know.” He watched as a fire lit up in Harry’s eyes, something that burned something inside him. “You think you knew Dumbledore, that’s a joke. He used you just like he used all of us.”

                “Shut up Malfoy.” Harry was getting to his feet now, his cig forgotten on the floor.

                “He asked me to kill him. Did you know that? It was all part of his elaborate plan _. He used us._ Children we were. Just another pawn in his game to take down the dark lord. And he wanted me to kill him.” Draco was laughing now, a maniacal sound coming from his lips.

                Suddenly a smack sounded the air, Draco’s head whipped back as Harry’s hand made contact with his face, laughter cut short.

                “You don’t know what you’re talking about Malfoy.” The fire had died out in his eyes, his fists were down by his side, trembling with the rest of him. He looked away from Draco, kicked the water pale and stormed off. “You know nothing!” he shouted behind him, leaving Draco with a stinging face and a hall soaked with dirty water.

                The next night, no words were spoken between the boys, there was no shared cig break, everything was cleaned up and put away without a word. Draco took his own break after though, finding a classroom he knew had a balcony so he could inhale nicotine. He smoked through half a pack, sitting down halfway through so he wouldn’t fall over. He regretted his teaching lesson tomorrow now more than ever. He shouldn’t care what Potter thought of him and he didn’t. He knew everyone hated him, what did it matter that Potter was seeing him for what he was. He lit up another smoke, fingers shaking from the cold, or the lack of food, or the lack of sleep _. Take your pick_. If only the war had gotten rid of him too.

 

The next morning in the Great Hall at breakfast time, Headmistress McGonagall made her second big speech in front of the students. For once Draco was present and accounted for.

                “Students, this upcoming week, four mind healers will be coming into our great school to help with the aftermath of the,” She hesitated, looking over all the students, “To help with the aftermath of the war. I know many of you lost friends, family, loved ones. I think I speak for all of the teachers when I say we are here to help you as much as we can. Help is always given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.” She nodded at her words, many of the students bowing their heads in the meaning. “Each house will be appointed its own healer, anyone who wishes to see them, may.”

                After her talk, many of the students started whispering among themselves, many of the students next to Draco burst in conversation. He looked over to the Gryffindor table, the three boys were sitting where they belonged, heads close together with the other counterparts, no doubt talking about their many, many troubles after the war. Draco immediately felt guilty for that thought. Harry was right in some way, they all had suffered. Draco mulled over the thought of visiting the mind healer. He knew he was troubled, his parents never hesitated to let him know that. Dumping his spoon back in the oatmeal, Draco continued to mull over the thought. It’s not like visiting a healer could make him worse, right?

                “Slytherin, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” A tall blond woman stood in the common rooms, greeting the house of green when they returned after dinner the next day. “My name is Joanne Rowling, and I’ve been appointed your mind healer.” She waited till a few more Slytherins mulled into the room before continuing her talk. “I’ll be hanging a sheet in this room for anyone who wishes to sign up for sessions with me. No pressure. McGonagall has appointed me an office on the second floor, anyone is welcome to drop by.” Her eyes looked around the room, connecting with Draco before continuing their sweep. “Look forward to seeing you.” She pinned up a piece of paper on their communications board before her heels clicked out of their dormitory.

                Draco went to his room, rolling his eyes at the first years already putting their names on the board. He knew that at the second hat ceremony, the other three beds would be filled up, he cherished this time alone, not having to pull his curtains up. Still, as he undressed and crawled into bed, he couldn’t help but pull his curtains closed, snuggling under the covers and closing his eyes even though sleep was long till coming. After everyone was in bed, the corridors were dark silent, Draco snuck out and put his name on the board.

 

                Harry didn’t show up to their next lesson and Draco tried his best not to let the guilt erupt in his chest. Even the blundering Weasley’s didn’t mention his absence. They talked their way through conversations, the redheads pushed him to teach them all the bad words and he didn’t even complain when he showed them. Draco’s heart wasn’t in it, his hands automatically doing all the work while his mind was miles away. He wondered when his family would be caught, when he would be put on trial again. What would he say? _What could he say_? His parents were guilty, _he was guilty_ , it was by sheer luck and association that he wasn’t in Azkaban himself. How long would his luck last? One of the many reasons Draco couldn’t sleep, wondering when they would come for him, whether it was the rest of the Death Eaters or the Ministry.

                “Slow down mate, we can’t keep up.” Fred’s hands were trying to keep up with his words but they were about two words behind.

                George shoved his brother, “Speak for yourself.”

                Draco brought his mind back, slowing his hands and his thoughts. Now was not the time to have a panic attack.

                He sat alone at dinner that night. The Gryffindorks that usually stuffing their faces next to him opted out for sitting with Harry instead of him. _Of course._ He refused to look up, refused to give his own mind the satisfaction of actually needing that. Needing someone to sit with him and eat, needing that feeling of normalcy. He hated that small voice in his head that told him he needed them. He was basically alone, something he enjoyed until everything about the war happened. Now when someone brushed up against him in class, tripped past him in the halls, he didn’t even roll his eyes. He craved the intimacy, he needed that touch. When he was alone his own fear kept him company, the voices and the shaking and the nagging drowned out everything.

                Draco pushed his plate back, getting up in haste and rushing out, he seriously needed a smoke break. He opted for just stepping out of the castle, too tired to find a balcony. Rushed among the snow till he got to the covered bridge, or what was left of it. Sitting on some stones, he lit a smoke, taking six seconds to light up, his hands shaking so bad. _Breath in, two three four, breath out, two three four._ The Slytherin went through a fag in less than a minute, pulling out another one and repeating the process. Tears streaked down his face, pissing him off even more and making his anxiety even worse.

                “Off in a hurry there.”

                He glanced over his shoulder, not in the mood for the Weasley Twins to be approaching him. “Fuck off unless you got more fags.” To his amazement, one of the gingers pulled a pack from his trousers, tossing it over to Malfoy. His hands kept shaking as he tore into the pack.

                “We came to bother you in supper but you weren’t there. Luna says you bounced off pretty fast.”

                “I don’t _bounce_.” He spat out through taking long drags.

                “Luna’s words, not ours.” They had taken up a spot an enormous boulder, probably from the underside of the bridge. Not too far, but not too close. They were treating him like a skittish cat, making themselves smaller, sitting down. They may as well have had their palms up, tuna at their feet and calling “here kitty, kitty, kitty!”

                They were silent, Draco wasn’t about to start chatting. He wouldn’t be the first to admit defeat. He would smoke the rest of their pack and leave without a word if he had to.

                “What you and Harry throwing a gem about?” He wasn’t about to face them and figure out which one was speaking to him.

                “This isn’t tea time, bugger off and ask him yourself.” His hands stopped shaking but he kept pulling out smokes.

                “We know other Slytherins you know.”

                “What’s that got to do with shit?” The clouds had started to let the snow come down, Draco’s body shaking from cold instead of anxiety. That was a step up he supposed.

                “What George is trying to say is, we didn’t have to ask you to help us learn. We wanted to.”

                “Why the fuck would you do that.”

                “Well we asked around, word is you had a sign name before you got here. That means you knew sign before. It also means you had a bloody better reason for learning it than to impress some first years in another house and getting an A in your foreign language studies.”

                Draco looked back finally, the twins looked bored but their tone spoke otherwise. Leaning up against each other, hands on their knees, heads resting on hands. They were watching him. He cleared his throat, nicotine stuck in his lungs. “My aunt was deaf.” He didn’t look at them long, not wanting to see any emotion in their face. “She taught me how to sign before I could even talk.”

                The wind blew between them for a while, echoing in the silence.

                “I’m not going to have my hearing for long.” He could tell it was George. With a twist of his body and a flick of his hand he threw the pack at the boys, watching as both of them took out cigs and lit them up. “Modern medicine and magic on my side and no one can do shit.” The smoke whirled between the three boys before dissipating into the night. The other boy laid his rested his arm his brothers shoulder, pulling him in tight.

                Draco flicked his ashes, wanting to slow down on his last smoke. “Sorry George.” He actually felt what he said.

                The boys looked at him, time almost standing still, not even the trees rustled.

                “I really am sorry.” He took another pull. “The war, the death eaters. Won’t take blame for all of it but I did more than my part.”

                Fred cleared his throat, still looking at the blond. “George and I were in the Order before Harry was. We knew certain thing’s that Harry was never privy to, Dumbledore’s orders yah know? We knew what he made you do.”

                Draco broke the circle, looking down and scuffing his feet in the snow. It really was getting cold but he couldn’t get himself to move. “ _Stop_.”

                “You want to blame yourself for all the shit that happened, _step in line kid_. If there was one puzzle piece that connected all of us in this madness, it was Voldemort. And he didn’t connect us in a nice way.” Fred flicked his ash, the wind carrying it to Draco’s feet.

                They were quiet for some time, dinner must have been over because children started mulling in the courtyard, a few of them casting looks towards the trio. Someone laughed in the distance, snow thrown in the air.

                “I’m disappointed in you boys.” He flicked his cig down, stepping it into the snow. “You should have been signing this conversation.” He gave them a small smile and walked back inside, no longer standing the cold.  


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING* Implied Eating disorder

Draco continued his weekly punishment even though it was well past his week. Anything was better than trying to sleep. Though the rhythmic circles of washing windows made him tired, the grease he put into it kept him awake. His arms hurting when he finished the fifth-floor corridor. _One of them_. When he turned around he almost kicked the bucket _, literally_ , when his eyes landed on the suite of armor across him. He kicked the bucket anyway, the water sloshing and spilling over but staying upright. What would McGonagall do if she found him in the morning, a whole ashed cig in his hand. That would be a sight for sore eyes. _Oh, how the mighty have fallen._ Draco pulled out another pack of smokes, he had borrowed it from another Slytherin, paying twice what he got them for in Hogsmeade. When he took the first drag, it was more than worth it. He quickly put out the smoke, it had lost its appeal. At least now in this empty hallway. Boredom and lack of sleep was how Draco found himself in the parts of the castle still crumbled and in ruin. McGonagall had groups of students from each house’s help rebuild, the strength of the magic was overpowering, done alone dangerous. It was difficult putting something together that was that far apart. Draco pulled his wand out, focusing his mind on the way the castle had looked before, the details of the walls, the curving of the arch, the doors and the hinges. A white strand jumped from his wand, landing on some rubble and shaking it. He could feel the sweat already building on his forehead, his head hurting and body shaking. _So basically how he felt twenty-four seven._ Slowly, as if against its own will, the clutter of the mess started rebuilding itself, bricks on top of bricks, wood appearing out of nowhere and laying itself down. The boy only got a foot down before he had to stop, trembling to his knees from the strain. Still, it was better than nothing. _Now this is what detention should be._

 

                Harry joined them at lesson the next day, albeit twenty minutes late.

                _“Really Harry?”_ The Twins signed.

                “Sorry, had to help professor Slughorn with some stuff.” He shoved his stuff under the bench, looking up and pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose. “Only sign?” He didn’t look at Draco, but the fact he was there said everything.

                The twins signed their response, making Harry roll his eyes.

                They had taken up residence in the Great Hall today, the room decorated with gaudy Christmas decorations, the ceiling spitting flakes that disappeared before they reached the ground. All three boys had made great progress, even bumbling fingers Harry. When they collected together it was all silence, fingers moving a mile a minute. Draco was thankful, his head banging extra hard today after his own punishment from the night prior. “Guys you have to remember that facial expressions are everything when signing, how many times have I said that.” The other two glowered at him. “See, like that. If you’re signing to someone who can’t hear, facial expression are what makes the tone. If you sign ‘come here’ and you look mad, someone will take it in a bad way.” He rolled his eyes at the boys before going back to his work.

                One of the Weasley boys shoved his foot, making him look up. _“Cheekbones are kind of protruding there, mate.”_ He made sure his face looked neutral, at least they listened.

                The other redhead started signing with him _“Better put a little meat on your bones.”_

                Draco’s head was splintering, even the silence was too loud. Getting up slowly, all eyes on him. “Think you guys are pretty good now. Carry the books with you, stumble across something you don’t know, ask for help.”

                “Wait you’re leaving us?” Harry addressed him, _his back more like it._

                Malfoy looked back, opening his mouth, ready to say something, when fast heals clicked into the Great Hall and suddenly the remaining three boys got to their feet.

                “Headmistress.”

                McGonagall ignored the other three, pointing a long finger at the blond. “Mr. Malfoy, I need you to come with me. _Immediately_.”

 

                This was it. He was being sent to Azkaban. They finally recanted and he was getting the punishment he deserved.

                McGonagall’s heals were fast, forcing Draco to half walk half trot if he wanted to keep up with her. “What’s this about, Professor.”

                “Quickly my Boy, take my hand.” As soon as they had rounded the bend, she reached her arm out and Draco took it, hoping, _needing,_ answers. Instead what he got was apparition, his boding breaking apart and coming back together. He had to hold onto McGonagall’s arm to not stumble over. They were in the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic. To his left and right were fireplaces, people firing in and out. 

                “Headmistress, please, I don’t understand, what’s going on?” As soon as he got his baring’s, his throat started closing up. She was dragging him to and froe, dodging people creatures and airplanes alike. When they shoved themselves into an elevator, pushed to the back did she finally address him.

                “I hate to do this to you Draco,”

                His heart was beating a mile a minute _, this was it._

                “I only got the letter an hour ago _. I see some things don’t change_.”

                They wanted him back, they wanted to resentence him. She was right, he should have been better, done more. _He didn’t even try._ He hadn’t even acted grateful.

                “It’s your parents Draco. They’ve got them. They’re on trial right now. We must hurry if we want to make it.”

                As if the rushing in his ears couldn’t get louder, every sense inside him suddenly amplified. If there weren’t so many bodies surrounding them, he would have fallen over. _Not now, he wasn’t ready._

                “I know this is sudden, but I didn’t think you would want to miss this.” She ushered him before her, pushing him into the circle of nameless faces, his parents bound in chains before him.

 

 

The winter was cold and brutal. All the leaves are gone from the trees if any of them were left on the ground, the snow hid them. Speaking of the snow, it came down, layers one after another, no sign of slowing down. Draco stood in his front yard, face lifted to the heavens, snowflakes collecting on him, the ones touching his skin melting. Every year for Christmas, it had snowed like this. God’s own gift to humanity. At least in this part of Scotland anyway. Draco raised his arms and spun, opening his eyes to look into the grey infinity. He wasn’t wearing a coat, wanting to feel the cold. It had snuck into his body, like the ice was coating his heart, he couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers, his forearms. The only place the snow really stung was his bare feet. _Make me as hard and unforgiving as the ice. Make me disappear like the snow on my skin._

The wind howled in his ears as he laid down, his trousers soaking in the snow, shirt wet. He wondered how long he could lay here without anything really happening to him, how long would it be before he himself froze like the twigs on the tree, froze like the pound in their backyard.

_Merry Christmas._

 

Malfoy Manor was just as cold on the inside as it was on the out. None of the hearths were lit, there were no house elves in the kitchen. When Draco had stepped on the front porch, the front door had been open, as if those who were fleeting left in such haste that they couldn’t be bothered. He knew the Aurors had been here, all dark magic traces banished from the house. There was leaves, dirt, and more recently snow, in the front halls. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling like tacky Halloween decorations. Draco knew if he walked into the dining hall that blood stains would still be there, dark and rusty over time. Frankly, he was surprised the manor was still standing. It was his now, the house, the vaults in Gringotts, the guilt.

Draco could barely remember the events at the Ministry, everything was a blur. Just as soon as he had been rushed in, he was pulled out. McGonagall apparating them back to Hogwarts.

He couldn’t even sell the place, who in their right mind would want it now? He could barely step foot inside without vomiting himself. His only path was through the doors, to the kitchen, and up the back stairs to his own room. And what use was trying to sleep when the house of horror surrounded him? Every sound and creak and moan of the house nearly made him jump out of his skin, pulling his wand out only to curse himself. Two weeks was too long.

 

_“They willingly served the Dark Lord.”_

_“And how do you know that?” The counsel were all leaning forward, waiting for his response._

_“They believed he would win.” Finally, Draco looked over at his parents. The look of anger could have crushed stone, their chains strained as Lucius hurled towards him. “I did it to protect them, but they did it because of their own personal gain.” He felt the tears in his eyes. “In the end, Lucius would have sacrificed me if it made Voldemort happy.”_

_“You are no longer a son of mine!” Lucius yelled. “You don’t deserve the Malfoy name.” He kept lunging until someone put a wand to his throat._

_“You traded me!” he was shouting. “You traded me for him! Wouldn’t have cared if he had killed me.”_

_“Draco, I love you so much, I would do anything to-.” Narcissa tugged against her own restraints, her sentence trailing off._

_The man at the head of the council threw his hands in the air. “Every time. Why do we even sit here if someone else is leading this.” Another man shushed him._

_“By turning me into a monster? One of them? One of you? What kind of life did you expect to come from this? You can’t put me through shit and then think it’ll all be okay just because you said you did it out of love!”_

_“We were right to kill Cinthia.” Lucius’s words came out with venom, spit flying out of his mouth. “She made you so weak. You were always weak. So pathetic Draco.”_

_Narcissa let out a squeak._

_“But at least I’m not a murderer.”_

                The train whistle woke Draco up from the first great sleep he had in what felt like years. The whistle sounded again, marking the stop at Hogsmeade. There were small children bustling and jumping through the halls of the train, first years excited to be coming back. It seemed that the break had rejuvenated everyone, even the older faces Draco saw looked less tired, everyone seemed to have needed a break, a long night’s sleep in the safety of a home and family. If only Draco had gotten the same. Things trailed by him in a blur, faces, and colors, if anything his nap had made him more tired. He could feel the ache in his bones, every step he took making his whole body hurt. He could have hugged the thestrals when he saw them. He’d never seen so many students walk up and touch the animals. Whatever was left inside him cracked a little.

                Draco wanted the year to continue better, he wanted to be present and to be good, and to lead the Slytherins the best he could. He knew the younger ones looked up to him, all the Slytherins did. But his first night back was unsuccessful. He couldn’t hear the words McGonagall said, bringing himself out of his stupor when the students stood up and clapped. He ordered ginger bear after ginger bear at the dinner. If anything the energy drinks only accelerated his heart rate, his eyes still half-lidded. He followed the color green to their common rooms, not registering any names or faces. More Slytherins had come back after holiday, and much to his chagrin there were two other boys in his room. He barely acknowledged them as he planted himself face first into his bed, waving his wand and closing his curtains.

 

                He watched the light drift through his shut blinds, listening as the other boys stirred around him.

                “Should we wake him up?” A deep voice murmured from across the floor.

                “Didn’t you see him last night? Poor bloke probably deserves all the sleep he can get.” Someone else answered.

                “You heard what happened to his house? Burnt down, to a crisp.”

                “Forget the house, what about his parents? Life sentence? Rough mate, rough.”

                “Hey, pass me my shirt, will you?”  

                Draco waited till the sounds of voices and trodden feet had passed, and then even a bit longer after that, wanting to close his eyes and get a few more winks of sleep, before finally sitting up. He had actually fallen asleep last night, waking up after an hour to put a silencing spell on his bed. The last thing he needed was everyone hearing what went on his head. After that, he’d gotten another hours’ worth of sleep before resigning and waiting for the sun to rise.

                 If obedience wasn’t so strongly instilled in him, he would have stayed in bed, wrapped in his duvet. Instead, he sprung up, ignoring the stars that popped in front of him. He turned the water in the shower rooms as cold as he could, trying to get something to energize him. After drinking another ginger root beer, he set off to his first class. He was ten minutes late.

 

                Whispers followed Draco through the halls that day, side eyes and glances. It was the closest he had felt to Harry Potter himself. He opted to skip out of meals, not wanting to deal with anyone. Besides, his teachers made sure he had enough work to keep him busy. He was three days into his ‘normal’ Hogwarts routine when the Weasley boys jumped him.

                Their signing was impeccable. _“Where you been mate?”_

                _“Yeah, haven’t seen your pale ghost in the halls.”_

                “Ugh, I’ve got all AP classes this term. Thought you guys only taught Muggle History?” Draco shifted on his feet, glancing between them.

                Fred cleared his throat, talking and signing, “Uh George’s hearing is all gone now, you need to sign.”

                Draco looked between the two boys, putting his bag on his shoulder so he could use his hands. _“Sorry._ ” He looked at George.

                _“We all knew it was coming. What about you though? You look like you have one foot in the grave.”_ Asif to prove his point, George poked at the blonde’s clothes which were hanging off his body.

                He flinched away from the touch. _“Don’t worry about me.”_ His eyes darted past the twins, looking for an escape.

Fred cleared his throat so he would look back at them _. “Don’t think that just because you taught us sign that we’re done with you.”_

_“What more could you possibly want from me?”_

_“It’s what friends are for.”_ Fred smiled at him.

                Before Draco could sign another word, George winked at him _“Do us one more favor though, stop skipping dinner.”_ They waved at him and walked off.

               

                Much to Draco’s surprise, the castle and all its occupants had more or less returned to normal. He knew outside the castle; the Ministry was in chaos. Every day an owl flying in with the current Daily Profit, markets dropping, Ministers of Magic being elected, impeached, murdered, traded out for the newest shiniest version. No one really knew what to do without Dumbledore, no one wanting to admit just how great his power was over every aspect of their lives. Inside the castle though, it was as if the gears in their clock had all finally aligned and started turning. Not all the teaching spots had been filled, not all the beds slept in, but Malfoy had an inkling that it would soon change.

                Draco was no longer teaching the Gryffindorks, he would still glance at their table, watching as the whole half of their table had their hands flying _. I’m the one who taught them, only three of them. And now the whole table knows? I’m pathetic, no one can stand me._ There was some truth to his brooding this time, everyone gave him a wide birth, all the Slytherins, his roommates, the teachers, even McGonagall simply looked at him, nodded and then turned away. The Weasley’s seemed to be the only ones brave enough to enter his bubble. He hadn’t even seen the crazy raven-haired boy with the scar. Just as well, couldn’t expect it to last forever.

                The Weasley’s were sitting next to him, they were among the last few stragglers in the great hall that night. The boys had found Draco and dragged him to dinner after noticing his many absences, pushing the leftover food his way. Everything sickened Draco these days.

                _“I already ate.”_ He signed for the millionth time.

                _“Yeah, we believe it.”_ Fred let out a laugh, pushing the food closer.

                Reluctantly, Draco shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, tasting nothing and trying not to gag as the starch made his way down his throat.

                George waited until he looked up to sign, _“What’s with you anyway? Trying to finish off what the war started?”_

                Draco shoved his food away, wanting to get up and leave but not finding the strength. Georges words hit a little too close to home. In a way, he supposed he was trying to die. The truth was he just couldn’t find the strength to try and live anymore. He knew his grades were suffering. If he even showed up to class anymore. “Yea,h I am.”

                George shoved him, _“Sign please.”_

                The blond looked back down at his food, not wanting to repeat it or sign it or even think about it. Fred signed the sentence to his brother.

                After a while the two boys moved in closer to the blond, wrapping their arms around him. They made a sandwich, a ginger and blond sandwich. They staid like that till the last bits of food were taken away, till the lights in the great hall dimmed, and all the house elves had vanished.

 

                “Mr. Malfoy, I was wondering when you’d show up.” Joanne Rowling looked just as intimidating in her small office as she had in the Slytherin common rooms. She was taller than Draco thanks to her heals, and the way she almost peered down at him made the boy shiver. “Shut the door behind you. I don’t bite.”

                Draco hesitated before shutting the door and sealing his fate. He hadn’t wanted to get up this morning, he missed a whole potions class mulling over whether or not to get dressed. By the time Potions had ended he was up.

                “You missed your scheduled meeting, but that’s okay. My door is always open.” She sat down behind her desk, motioning for Draco to join her. He did, just as reluctantly as with the door. “So. What brings you in today?”

                He was quite for some time, mulling over a multitude of words in his mind. Looking around her room to buy himself some time, he pointed to a pensieve in her office. “Use that for mind healing?”

                She turned her head to see what he was pointing at. “Ah yes, it was gifted to me by an old friend after I had completed all my classes. It can be helpful when someone has a situation they can’t or won’t talk about. Often times its used in groups to help experience situations. It has many uses.” Her eyes wandered back to him. “Avoiding my question, are we? It’s okay, many people have a hard time finding the words to express themselves. I believe our minds knows us better than we think. The subconscious is a beautiful and cruel mistress.” She opened her desk, pulling out a file and setting it in front of her. “I hope this doesn’t intimidate you, McGonagall provided me all the files for the Slytherins. I’ve reviewed yours a couple times.” She glanced at him again before sliding the file his way.

                Draco’s fingers twitched as he snatched the paper off her desk and started ruffling through it. How McGonagall had gotten a copy of his statement after the battle he had no idea, but there it was, script for script. He couldn’t look at it for more than two seconds before shoving it back at her. “That’s not all there is to me you know, a file.”

                “I know. It seems like a place to start though.” She put the papers away. “I can’t imagine what you must have gone through, can’t and won’t even pretend. Look Draco, I’m not here to make everything okay, I can’t wave my wand and make everything better. What I can do is be here for you, in any way you need. I can help ease your mind, can help you figure out some copy skills for what you’re going through.”

                “And what am I going through?” he shot back at her.

                “Well, PTSD for one. Anxiety I’m sure of, and from the reports I’m getting, it looks like you’ve semi latched onto an eating disorder to help you cope.”

                He snickered and crossed his arms. “I don’t have an eating disorder, this is stress. I’ll give you the anxiety though.”

                She ignored his first remark. “And what are you anxious about?”

                Snorting, “Everything.”

                “Has anything helped you with your anxiety?”

                He stalled, avoiding her eyes. “Well, I was helping some mates out for a while. It was more bearable when I was around them.” His leg started shaking under the table.

                “And what happened?”

                “They stopped needing my help.”

                “You can still go to them though?”

                “They only needed me to help them learn sig-. Only needed me to help them with the one thing.”

                “You said they were your mates though. Surely you can still go to them?”

                “I’m not that kind of person.” Draco thought of all the times the Gryffindorks had sought him out, how many times it was the Weasley’s who had chased after him, sat at his table, requested his help.

                “Well, maybe it’s time you start.”

 

                Rowling’s words rang in his ears at dinner that night. He had showed up to the Great Hall, feeling more out of place than ever. His usual spot at the Slytherin table had been taken over by a bunch third year boys. Just as much since he was never there anymore. He glanced over to the Gryffindor table, noticing that the redheads were looking at him and smiling. He forced his feet in their direction, _‘fucking pathetic’_ running through his head with each step. When he got there, he wormed his way between Fred and George, not looking up the entire time. The table was eerily silent as he grabbed an empty plate and piled on food. Once he was settled, arms crossed and heaping food in front of him, did the table go back to chatter. He felt the boys scoot closer to him and poke him in his ribs. He didn’t eat anything, merely pushed his food around, but he felt immensely better in their presence. Draco knew Harry was at the table, he knew The Boy Who Lived was sitting across from him, he could feel his stare. Somehow this made him feel better too.

                After people started to scatter, the boys gripped his shoulder as they left him, George pushing his untouched food closer to him and giving him a look. After it seemed like everyone had left, then did Draco look up and catch Harry’s eyes. Harry looked almost sad, like he was the puppy and Draco was the shoe that kicked him. They didn’t say anything, not when the silence stretched on, not when Draco finally took a bite of food, and not when he had finished his plate. He looked up at Harry before he left, nodding at the boy who was giving him a small smile.

 

                “So you’re actually taking my advice? Shocker.” Rowling was leaning back in her chair, throwing a ball on a string and reeling it back to herself.

                “Careful with your ego. It was one meal.” Draco sat, rod straight in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

                “It’s a start. How do you feel?”

                “Now or in general?”

                “Both.” Her toy made a small whirl sound as it bounced back to her.

                “Like shit.”

                “But when you were with your friends, you felt less like shit?”

                “I guess.”

                “Have you talked with anyone about your experiences during the war?”

                Draco twitched, his leg started shaking again, the gnawing feeling in his stomach intensifying. “A little.”

                “With your mates?”

                “With Harry.”

                “Who’s Harry?”

                Draco gagged out of shock, finally looking from his spot on the wall to stare at Joanne. “Are you serious? He’s only the most known wizard, besides You Know Who.”

                She shrugged, pulling her toy back to her and casting it out. “I don’t like to keep up with the times. I lived on an island in Scotland for a long time, I don’t read the paper and I don’t pretend to know more than I do.”

                His shoulders slouched and Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s the hero. The one who destroyed Voldemort.”

                “Ah, that one.” Her head bobbled, “Yeah, I read about that. Harry something-“

                “Potter. Harry Potter.”

                She nodded again, “That one. So you talk to Harry about this. What does he have to say? Surely he’s shared some of the same experiences.”

                “We don’t talk that often, and its usually one sided.”

                “How come?”

                “We weren’t on exactly the same sides.”

                “Yeah, you were.”

                “ _No, we weren’t_.” He gritted his teeth, feeling a pop in his jaw.

                “Did you actually want Voldemort to win?” she glanced at him, her toy sputtering on the string and failing to return to her.

                “No.”

                “You were on the same side then.” She kept nodding, almost all knowing.

                Exasperated, Draco had to put his hands on his legs to stop from shaking. “It’s not that simple.”

                “It is, but you want to make it harder. Do you want to be the bad guy?” she sat up a little to retrieve her toy, rolling it back up before tossing it away.

                “Of course not.”

                “Then why do you keep putting yourself in that role? All of you here are kids, _all of you_. What you had to endure, _what you were forced to endure,_ shouldn’t be put on anyone, least of all kids. You aren’t the bad guy, Draco. You made shit decisions, you got backed into a corner, handed the raw end of the deal. You never had the help someone else might have had. Don’t keep painting yourself bad just because you’ve made mistakes. You did the right thing in the end, hell, all along your subconscious was having you do the right thing. You never killed anyone, you never turned anyone over.”

                Draco’s mind flashed to Harry in the Room of Requirement. _Why didn’t you tell her? Bellatrix. You knew it was me. You didn’t say anything._ He never wanted anyone dead. Not then, not now.

                “One day, you’re going to have to forgive yourself Draco.”

 

                The next morning at Breakfast, Draco found himself once again walking over to the Gryffindor table. When he sat down, he realized that the Weasley boys had switched seats with Harry, who was now radiating heat next to him. His eyes darted up, glaring at the gingers who waggled their eyebrows at him. _Fucking mudbloods_. As soon as the thought entered his head, Draco clenched his hands. No. That’s not what he meant. He shouldn’t have thought that. Harry pushed a plate already rounded out with food his way, but Draco kept his arms clenched by his side. He didn’t deserve to eat after a thought like that. The hall cleared out, the lights flickering, reminding everyone of the classes ahead. Once everyone but Harry had left, Draco made to get up,-

                -only to have someone grab his shirt and yank him back down. He glared at Harry. “What the fuck Potter.”

                “Me what the fuck? You what the fuck! You need to eat.” Harry had that same kicked puppy look on his face, only this time his eyebrows were scrunched together conveying annoyance.

                “Yes mum.” Draco rolled his eyes and swung his feet out of the bench, but Harry’s hand remained clamped on his arm.

                “Draco you look like a walking skeleton.”

                “And you look like a prat.” He tried to shake the other boys hand off him but the fingers remained.

                “Do you want to fucking die? Because this is how you fucking die.”

                Draco finally pride the other boys hand off his arm. “Yes, actually I do. Now let me die in peace.” He got up, making to storm out but not getting more than three feet before a wave of dizziness so strong it made a hurricane look weak, hit him. He sat down at the Slytherin table, pushing his head into his hands. He felt the other boy sit down next to him.

                “I don’t believe you. If you really wanted to die, you wouldn’t be coming to our table.”

                Draco looked up just enough to shoot daggers at him. _Challenge accepted_.

                “And don’t take that as an invite to not come.” _Fucking read my mind._

                “Why do you have to stick your nose into every fucking thing.” He got out through clenched teeth.

                “Do you think I try this hard for anyone else? You are literally the most frustrating person I know. Every time I think I have you figured out you close up.”

                “Then stop trying.”

                Harry’s eyes slanted, a brief look of anger flashed on his face before it was washed out by fatigue. He leaned back against the Slytherin table, his knee barely touching Draco’s. “I talked to McGonagall about what you said. About Dumbledore.”

                Draco shut his eyes, wanting to apparate so badly away from this conversation.

                “She said you were telling the truth. Dumbledore had some _, weird_ motives, to put it lightly. I can’t pretend I wasn’t mad by what you said, but I understand it better. Now anyway.”

                “And that makes you want to be my best mate?”

                Harry bumped his shoulder with his. “It means I don’t want you to die, not before, not now.”

                There was a ringing in Draco’s ears. He thought Harry’s voice was supposed to sound muffled but he could still hear him, clear as day above the ringing. “Then be a good mate and don’t take me to the infirmary, yeah?”

                Harry looked up, confused. That was the last thing Draco saw before he passed out.

 

                The first thing Draco noticed when he woke up was that he was in fact, in the Infirmary. The second, was that Harry Potter was holding his hand. “We’ll never be best palls at this rate Potter.” He didn’t take his hand away, blaming it on the confusion and tiredness.

                Relief spread across Harry’s face and he scooted his chair closer to Draco. “Scared the shit out of me, what was I supposed to do?”

                The blond rolled his eyes, very much aware of just how good Harry’s skin felt against his. He also felt something else. With his free arm, he reached up to his nose, poking at the strange thing that appeared to be going inside him. “What the fuck.”

                Harry’s other hand came up and snatched his arm away. “Don’t pull it out. Madam Pomfrey said you were extremely dehydrated and malnutritioned. She had to put a feeding tube in to pump some electrolytes into your body.” He nodded at the bag of liquid that seemed to be flowing into Draco. Harry took let go of his free arm, his other hand still holding the boys.

                Draco rested his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes against the harsh light. “When can I get the hell out of here.”

                “When you start eating.”

                Draco’s eyes shot open, his hand retracting from Harry’s as Madam Pomfrey stood over his bed.

                “Thought I was done with sick boys in my ward.” She shook her head, checking his bag and then giving him a stern once over. “Draco Malfoy, so help me.” She didn’t finish her sentence, just kept shaking her head as she retreated.

                Both boys watched her walk off. After a while, Harry’s hand snaked it’s way back to Draco’s. The blond let it happen. Closing his eyes again and falling into a deeply wanted sleep.

               

                “So you must be the Potter boy.”

                Draco could hear a conversation happening above him, his eyes still closed, hand still incased in Harry’s. He felt very safe.

                “I suppose that’s me. You can call me Harry though.” Harry’s voice was gruff and Draco wondered how long he had been asleep. Had he been with him the whole time?

                “So what’s he gotten himself into this time?” Joanne Rowling was somewhere near his left, he could hear her pull up a chair.

                “He past out. Madam Pomfrey says he needs to eat.”

                Joanne let out a soft laugh. “Anyone with a good set of eyes can see that.”

                “You’re his mind healer?” Draco could only assume that Rowling was nodding her head at Harry’s question. “Can you tell me why he’s doing this?” The blond tried not to move, his hand wanted to tighten around the other boys, but he didn’t want to give himself away.

                Joanne sighed. “I can’t tell you what we talk about. But I think you already know the answer Harry.”

                They were silent for some time, Draco could practically feel their eyes, he tried to make his breathing as natural as possible, his face set in a sleeping look, thanking his years of neutral looks for making it easy.

                “Take care of him Harry. He’s a good kid.” He heard her get up, a scratching of metal against floor.

He felt Harry squeeze his hand. “I know.”

Draco could feel his eyes stinging, unwanted tears threating to spill over.

“She’s gone now, you can open your eyes.” Harry was talking to him.

He sat up, taking in the dimly lit ward. It must have been late evening. The candle light was low, Madam Pomfrey no where to be seen.

Draco didn’t want to say anything, sarcasm and quick remarks at the tip of his tongue. He felt the tears start to spill over and turned his head towards the exit so the other boy might not notice. “Why are you still here?” of course the wobble in his voice saying more than the tears in his eyes.

                “Why are you punishing yourself?” Harry answered his question with his own.

                “M’not.” Again, the crack in his voice gave him away.

                Harry sighed, finally removing his hand. Draco felt something crack inside him. “Sit up.”

                Finally, he turned his head towards the other boy, quickly brushing the tears off his face. “What?”

                “Sit up.” Harry persisted, motioning him forward.

                Draco did as he was told, wondering if Harry was going to slap him again. _He deserved it_. Harry sat at the edge of his bed and wrapped his arms around him. He felt himself go rigged, his nose against the other boy’s neck, mouth pressed into his shoulder. Harry held him like that for a while, stroking his back in circles, careful not to pull his tube out. After a while Draco melted into the warmth, closing his eyes as hands wandered into his hair. When the other boy finally pulled back, he noticed the little wet spots his eyes had left on Harry’s shoulders. He hadn’t even realized he was still crying. Harry’s face was close to his, noses almost touching.

                “Do not die.” He was looking right into his eyes, into his soul. “Do not fucking die, or I will kill you.” He was enunciating every word with meaning.

                Draco couldn’t help but snort, embarrassingly wiping the snot from his nose.

                Harry leaned closer if it was possible. “I’m serious.” He could feel the ghost of his breath on his mouth, sending a shock down to his stomach.

                After staring into his green orbs, Draco finally nodded, looking down to escape the intense stare. They didn’t say anything as Harry scooted Draco over, making enough room on the bed for himself before wrapping the boy back in his arms. Draco didn’t dare say anything. After a while, he knew the boy next to him had fallen asleep, the gentle breathing and small snores telling it all. Harry’s arms were still incasing him and Draco wished for a brief moment that this would never end. If he did die, let it be right here and now. It was the first time in a long time he didn’t feel cold, the Gryffindor seemed to expel heat like a damn furnace. He didn’t feel hungry, thirsty, he didn’t even feel tired _. He felt happy._ Here in the fucking hospital ward, next to Harry fucking Potter, with a goddamn tube up his nose, he felt happy. For now, he would let himself feel it too. As he closed his eyes and scooted closer to the furnace of a man, he felt a small smile curl onto his face. Maybe things weren’t so bad.

               

“Oh my god, George I am so glad you’re deaf and not blind.”

Draco’s eyes shot open, hands instinctively shoving the body next to him. “What the fuck Weasleys.”

Both gingers were doubled over, supporting each other so they didn’t fall as they laughed.  

                Harry woke up next to him, slyly getting off the bed and stretching. His shirt pulled up showing off the trail of hair that led into his pants. Draco had to look away.

                _“We came to check on you,_ ” George signed after he was done laughing. _“looks like you’re all taken care of though.”_ He looked at the raven-haired boy, who was now sitting in his seat, blushing.

                _“Bugger off prats.”_ Draco both spoke and signed the words, scowling so George could read his mood.

                _“Come on Draco don’t be like that.”_ Fred spoke up. _“It’s only natural.”_

                _“What the fuck does that-“_ before he could finish his sentence, Madam Pomfrey stormed over to them with a tray in her hands.

                “You!” she set the tray in front of him, pointing at his nose, “You better eat everything on here.” She turned towards the others. “And you! You better make sure he does.” She gave his bag a check before whirling off.

                Draco stared down at the food, there was a bowl of steaming porridge, toasty bread with butter slathered on it and a bowl of fruit. Not nearly as much as the great hall provided. He could do this.

                It’s not like Draco was intentionally starving himself. The thought had never crossed his mind. He didn’t think he was fat, he didn’t struggle to make it through the day without eating, he didn’t enjoy the empty feeling inside himself. _Well, maybe just a little bit._ Harry’s words from the night before flashed in his mind _. “Why are you punishing yourself?”_ That’s what he was doing wasn’t it?

                Sometimes when he misbehaved as a child, his parents would send him to bed without dinner. There was one time where he went three days without eating because he refused to eat the squid they had sat before him. The squid finally went bad and his parents moved on, letting him return to his meals. Not eating was automatically associated with punishment in his mind. And although that’s not what he had intended to do in the beginning, as it turns out that’s just what he had done. He didn’t really see himself as worthy to be alive at this point. He was too weak to actually kill himself, so not eating was the second-best option. A slow painful death from starvation was just what the doctor ordered, the doctor being Draco. When the boys showed interest in him, when they talked to him and sat with him, he felt like maybe he actually should be alive, that he was contributing to society in some form. “You can’t always control the thoughts in your head.” Joanne had told him. “But you can control your actions towards those thoughts.” So maybe just because he didn’t think he was worthy, that didn’t make it true.

                Draco mulled these thoughts over, pushing the porridge from side to side before someone cleared their throat.

                “Do you want us to eat with you so we’re not just sitting here staring at you?” Harry asked, his hand reached out towards the other boy before falling back to his lap.

                He nodded, watching as the twins silently saluted, a loud crack as they both apparated to, he could only assume, the great hall. After they were gone Harry held his hand. Draco didn’t protest.

                He brought a spoonful of mush to his mouth, sniffing it a bit before shoving it in his mouth. It was tasteless, almost feeling like gravel as he swallowed. Somehow the food felt wrong. He shoved another spoonful in his mouth. When had he become a pathetic twig in the sick ward not being able to eat? _If only his father could see him now_. He let the spoon clank into the empty bowl.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per request, I did my best to get back in this mindset and finish this up. I know it might be short, but believe it or not, I am immensely proud of this story. For the first time looking back on it and re-reading it doesn't make me cringe. I wanted the ending to end wherever it felt natural, and this did. I'll add an Epilogue soon. Anyway thanks to everyone who was so patient in this final chapter. I love you all xoxo

“When do you get out of the loony bin?” Rowling was sitting in Harry’s usual seat, one healed foot crossed over her knee. Just as home here as in her own office. 

Draco rolled his eyes, holding back an urge to cross his arms over his chest. ‘It’s a sign of defense. Or discomfort.’ Rowling's words ran through his mind. “Suppose as soon as I’m down to three square meals a day. That and Pomfrey said I have to gain at least two kilos before she’ll let me loose.” 

“Took the nose tube out, that’s a step.” 

Almost subconsciously he touched the spot above his lip where the tube used to rest. The memory of it pulling from his stomach and up his throat an unpleasant one. “I can keep food down now for the most part.” 

“Congratulations, you’re a three-year-old now.” She leaned back farther if that was even possible. “And how are your mates doing these days? I see Mr. Potter around these parts quite often.” 

Draco focused on remaining neutral. It was true that Harry had been spending time with him, Madam Pomfrey having to chase him out in the evenings on more than one occasion. But they were just good mates, and Harry was helping him keep up with his studies. He repeated as such to Rowling, who in turn smiled coyly. 

She cleared her throat, finally setting both feet on the ground and leaning towards the boy. “Are we going to talk about what happened to your house?” 

He sat up straighter, wishing there was anywhere half pleasant to look at besides the filthy floors and sick beds in front of him. “What do you mean?” Joanne was always straight to the point, something Draco admired in her. But sometimes she hit the bull a little too close to the head. 

“Come on, half the school was talking about it after Christmas break. Malfoy Manor burned to nothing. Weren’t you worried you would cause a wildfire?” 

He snickered, finally looking Joanne in the eyes. “Maybe if I was a first-year idiot.” 

She smiled back. “Touche.” 

“Besides, not like anyone's going to be using it anytime soon.” 

“Well, I think it was a pretty healthy thing to do.” 

“You do?” he deadpanned, looking at her in disbelief. 

“Well the method was a little more literal, but you got rid of something you didn’t want, something that was no longer healthy for you. Although I do hope you know this doesn’t mean you’re a new and changed man. You may have burned the house but you still have to deal with the rubble.” She got up, patting him a couple times on the leg before making her exit. Always giving Draco something to mull over. 

 

Draco’s release from Madam Pomfrey was less anticlimactic than he cared to admit. He had sat in his bed for five days as Pomfrey clucked around him like a mother hen, deposited meal after meal, drew his blood, and made him walk around the ward. He found an odd sense of comfort being in the silent quarters, the periodic walk of Madam Pomfrey to and from his bed something he could continuously count on. The rugged routine of waking up, showering, eating breakfast and then just waiting, soothed his nerves. Almost in the same way as Harry and the Weasleys did when they would show up before dinner, arms full of books, goofy smiles on their faces. The day to day tasks, as mundane as they were, were timely and unsurprising. In a way, Draco felt like his body was resetting. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so well. That morning when Madam Pomfrey had checked on him, dropping off the Slytherin robes he had arrived in and taking out his IV, he almost felt saddened. 

“Don’t act like it’s the end of times, Mr. Malfoy. You know you lot are allowed to come to see me, even if you’re not sick. Besides, you’ll have to come back in a week for another round of tests. And don’t even think of getting on a broomstick. I’ve already spoken to Madam Hooch.” She ran a hand through his hair and Draco allowed it, giving the nurse a smile and a nod of thanks before shuffling off to the bathroom to change. 

Things outside of the ward had changed just as much as they hadn’t. The halls were relatively empty as Draco slinked his way to the Great Hall. The older students having made their way to Hogsmeade, the younger ones catching up on papers and sleep. Even inside the gigantic doors of the dining room, half the tables remained unused. Clumps of blue and green mixed with gold red and yellow. It took the boy a moment to process that someone was waving at him, two someones actually, and when he wandered closer, he realized it was Weasley and a Lovegood. 

"Draco you finally look alive. I can see the wrackspurts floating by your head again." As if to prove her point, Luna waved at the invisible creatures through her spectacles, giving that faraway smile as Draco took a seat next to the Weasley twins. 

Fred poked his side, getting close enough to make Draco sweat a little under the collar. "I haven't seen you look this good in well, ever." He signed, ruffling the boy’s hair and simultaneously bumping his shoulder. A few other people said hello before going back to their meals. A gesture that in part, may have seemed small, but was enough to start a fire in Draco’s belly. 

As he reached for the brisket, a Slytherin across the table nodded his head at him, “It’s good to finally meet you. I’m Rosmus. I’m pretty sure we share a room.” He pushed the plate Draco was reaching for closer to the boy, “By the way, they just changed the commons room password. It’s nightingale.” 

Draco nodded his thanks, he resisted but could feel a small smile on his face, when he glanced across and saw Harry looking at him, it only grew bigger. 

 

The winter haze passed in a blur, each day blending into the next as Draco set up a pattern for himself. The snow-covered courtyards remained the same, melting each morning and being replaced in the evening. One of the greatest changes of Hogwarts life was the removal of the large hourglass point counters from the entrance hall. McGonagall brushing over an excuse that it encouraged segregation instead of unity. Replacing the giant machines with two adjoining pictures of Snape and Dumbledore. Draco wasn’t sure if that comforted him even less than the huge reminders of house failures. 

At meal times, the tables were always a mixture of colors, houses no longer sitting alike. McGonagall making the announcement that Thursday. 

“I know many of you have already taken upon yourselves to intermingle and introduce yourselves. For that I thank you. From this day forward, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor are no longer required to stay at their ‘assigned tables.’ House segregation will only be required on the first and last day of school.” She had continued talking, but Draco was already too busy piling his plate with food, playfully shoving Harry to get the cakes. 

His grades were returning to peak performance. A major thanks to the Weasleys and Harry, and even Hermione, who let him borrow all the notes from classes they shared. When he would pass Joanne in the hallways she would sometimes smile and wink at him, something that always made his chest fill with pride. “Door’s always open to you kid.” She had told them on their ‘last session’. Draco insisting, he was better, happier. And when at the Great Hall, Harry would slowly move his hand, just so that their pinkies would touch, Draco would know once and for all, he was okay, he was happy. And truly he did feel happy. 

Someone jostled their table, bumping into Harry and Draco, who suddenly found his whole hand enveloped in Harry’s. The nervous Ravenclaw apologizing quickly and ran off, Harry giving the kid a smile and a ‘No worries mate.’ As the table continued their chatter, food passing this way and that, Draco couldn’t help but look down at his lap, his eyes darting to his hand, Harry’s clasped around it. And when he looked up and caught the other boy’s eyes, he felt like nothing could ever be wrong again.


	6. Epilogue

Draco was running late, again. To his defense, his owl was slow, and extremely old, losing about half his feathers upon delivering the parchment to the boy. Professor Slughorn staring at him like someone had conjured Tom Riddle right then and there, mouth agape like a fish on land, as Draco carefully removed the note from the senior animal. 

"Professor, I apologize. Headmistress McGonagall needs me." 

Slughorn waved him off carelessly, eyes squinting and going back to a story of the glory days. "As I was saying, back in my time, you wouldn't be as lucky as you all are today. Take Mr. Malfoy for instance, why if he pulled something like that back in-" 

Draco turned the corner, rolling his eyes at whatever long tangent the professor was getting into. It wasn't like he had been paying attention before either. Let's be honest. On his last bolt up the staircase from the undergrounds, he nearly ran into Harry, smiling at the state of the other lad. "Your owl find you in the prefect's bathroom? Looking a little disheveled there." he laughed as he pointed to Harry's inside out shirt. 

"If only, changing from Quidditch." 

"Because god forbid you come in your gear." Draco got closer to the other boy, shoulders touching, barely. "Anyway, know what this is about?" 

"Guess we'll find out." 

The two boys entered the Great Hall, the doors automatically closing behind them, the room grew silent as the last two attendees took their spot up front by the teacher's table. All the Weasleys were there, Granger, Cho, Lovegood, a multitude of other sixth years he didn't recognize, along with Professor McGonagall, standing front and center. 

"I appreciate you all arriving on short notice." She peered over her spectacles as Draco and Harry took seats next to Luna. "I have made a few changes since being, made, Headmistress of Hogwarts, some of which I know not everyone has been happy about." 

Draco knew what she was talking about. The day the Quidditch house teams were forced into one, was a day for the history books, to say the least. McGonagall promising the team would still have competition, her voice rising over the shouts from captains. A rumor of a new school being opened in Scotland, substantiated by the articles from the Daily Proffit, vouched for her later that day.

"There is a very big decision ahead of us. I have collectively gathered you, prefects, sixth-years, fighters, to help me make this decision. A new school year is dawning. Along with the extermination of quidditch teams, and house points, I have decided to lay on the table the possibility of abolishing the houses themselves." 

Immediately, the room burst into chatter, someone to Draco's left clearly stating "what the fuck?" he was pretty sure it was Ron. Under the table, Harry's hand squeezed his, their thighs pressing against each other. 

A girl from Hufflepuff spoke first, her tentative hand waving once before retracting back. "Headmistress, how come you're not having the board make this decision?" 

McGonagall waited till it was relatively silent before striding over to the Hufflepuff table, arms behind her back. "Some of the faculty is adequately new, it didn't seem fit to have such an important decision made by those who have not known Hogwarts as long as others. It has been brought to their attention, however, it will be you that I look too for guidance." 

"You've already taken the competition out of the houses, what makes you think expunging the houses themselves will change anything?" Another one in yellow spoke. 

"This is not a definitory must." She looked around the tables before taking her spot back in the middle. "This is simply an idea. I do not think to take away the houses as a whole will make everything perfect and everyone happy. It is an idea, for even less segregation." 

"But the houses still work together, as a whole." Ravenclaw this time. 

"Some of them." Draco finally spoke up, catching McGonagall's eye. 

"It's not our fault Slytherin has a shit reputation." 

"Language Finlay." The Headmistress turned her gaze to someone behind Draco, a Gryffindor. 

He turned so he could see Nate Finlay himself when he spoke. "Yeah, but haven't we paid our dues? All of us?" He could feel Harry squeezing his hand tighter, a signal, ‘proud of you’ without the words. 

Nate ducked his head, grumbling something under his breath, the neighbor beside him punching his arm. 

"I believe Mr. Malfoy has made a point. Whether or not the houses work together, there's still prejudice but-" 

"That's not going to go away just because the houses do." Draco cleared his throat, an apologetic look for cutting off the Headmistress. 

McGonagall scanned the room once more before speaking her parting words. "You all have a lot to consider. This isn't something I expect an answer to anytime soon, let alone today. I would like you all to reconvene this same time on Monday. Have a good weekend." And with that, she was off, heels clicking down the hall, the doors opening long before she walked through them. 

Draco looked at everyone sitting at his table, their expressions mirroring his, and as the doors shut behind McGonagall, the room once again exploded in chatter, louder now that the teacher was absent. 

“She can’t just remove the houses!” Ravenclaw 

“Why not? That’s how Durmstrang does it.” Ginny Weasley threw her two cents in, an annoyed look plastered on her pale face. 

“We’re not fucking Durmstrang, now are we.” It was a Slytherin that Draco didn't recognize. 

Ginny looked like she was about to retort but Ron put a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head. 

Everyone was yelling, someone from Hufflepuff was standing on a table, their hair flying as they shouted at a Gryffindor. Draco tried not to laugh, the girl on the stand barely as tall as the boy she was shouting at. A few more minutes of angry shouts ensued. Draco and Harry watching soundlessly, hands still clasped under the table, till someone stood up, an ear-piercing whistle silencing the room. 

“Enough! I’m sick of fighting!” It was Neville Longbottom, he had been sitting with a group of Ravenclaw girls, his demeanor was almost unrecognizable to Draco. “Whether we vote to keep, or abolish the houses, it should be a vote we make together. I was petrified of being sorted into the wrong house when I got here. Now I think a lot of that hatred came from the shit people and reputations in the houses, not the houses themselves.” Someone tried to speak above him, but the look Neville gave was enough to silence the kid. “The Hogwarts houses are a reputation that even precedes my grandfather. I for one, do not want to see something so historical and meaningful, just be destroyed. Headmistress McGonagall gave us two options. But I believe we have a third.” 

“Killing ourselves?” 

“Shut the fuck up Markus.” Draco conjured a crumpled piece of paper, throwing it at the lad across the table who just swatted it and smirked. 

Neville let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thank you, Slytherin. But no. We don’t have to stay this way, and we don’t have to give up our houses. We can change. Come on, I’ve seen all of you do it. This isn’t your parents Hogwarts. This isn’t even the school I went to when I was a kid. Hogwarts has changed, everyone who went through the battle has changed. And I know McGonagall is trying to change things for the better. We can do the same. The Houses are already stronger than they were before, there’s no longer a point system, we all play on the same team. And keep your gay jokes lads. I’m serious. We are the future here, and I, for one, want my kids coming to a school where there’s no fear of being put in the ‘wrong house’. From here on out, we make the history.” The silence stretched on as Neville stood there, eyes darting around the room, feet starting to shuffle from nerves. 

Eventually, one by one and then handfuls of students stood up with him, someone started clapping and the room erupted. Draco finally let go of Harry as they stood up, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting “Oh captain, my captain!” 

Neville laughed as he was jostled, just shaking his head at the boy. 

 

“Did we ever look that young?” Harry whispered to Draco. 

They were sitting outside in the courtyard, watching the procession of children that had arrived for the beginning term, wander the halls. A couple of the kids pointing and staring at them. Draco scooted closer, putting his head on the opposite boy's shoulder. “Yes, but I’ve never worn that color plaid.” 

Harry smirked, shoving the blonde. “Yeah, but you wore purple on purple once.” 

“Christ Harry, it was one time, I was like what, twelve?” 

“You scarred me forever.” 

“Fuck off.” 

The boys sat in silence for a while. The wind had picked up, the trees blowing and tossing above them. The sun had set already, the bells for dinner just around the corner from ringing and the heat spell that Draco had cast over them had worn of thirty-some minutes ago. The once herd of young children stampeding through the courtyard had now succumbed to two or three adolescents running between the walls of the yard, far too busy now, to stop and stare. 

“Should we go in and watch?” Draco’s voice had lowered, his hand slotted perfectly with Harry’s. 

“I'm actually enjoying the view out here.” The black hair boy turned, moving so slowly Draco thought an eternity had passed before their lips met. And suddenly the cold didn’t matter. As the clock bells rang behind them, signaling the first dinner of the term, a beginning, Draco too, felt like a new chapter had started. That evening after the ceremony had finished and the food had been eaten, sleepy children one by one, followed their prefects to their new houses. 

Draco fell asleep with a smile on his face. For the first time he could remember, each bed in the Slytherin commons had been filled.


End file.
